


Duran Duran vs. the Fortress of Solitude

by kerithwyn



Category: Duran Duran, Duran Duran (Music Videos), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, FPF, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which these boys are not of this Earth, because honestly, <i>look at them.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Duran Duran vs. the Fortress of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenaz/gifts).



> Written for Fandom Stocking 2015 for Kenaz. I was utterly charmed by your request for FPS based on Duran Duran videos, and in casting around for inspiration, I came across this description for “Planet Earth”:
> 
> “It looks like they’re performing in a vast, icy chamber, like they’re the house band at the Fortress of Solitude, though I would’ve pegged Superman as more of a Springsteen man.”  
> \-- http://preppiesoftheapocalypse.blogspot.com/2011/06/duranalysis-planet-earth.html
> 
> My high school obsession band plus a comics reference? Recipe for a ficlet, at least.

Something had gone wrong with the simulator: Nick’s hair was a _disaster_. And the rest of the band’s clothing was a scrambled mismatch of styles that suited none of them, especially the ruffled blouses. Roger could at least claim the shirtless glamour shot in the opening crawl.

Still, they were professionals. The show, however virtual and unwatched by living eyes, must go on.

The AI that powered the Fortress of Solitude drew on all eras of its adopted planet’s recorded media, projecting simulations meant to improve its understanding of the world’s culture. The Fortress’ master lived in the world among the humans. The AI, constrained as it was by its crystalline structure, made do with images cast along the diamond-cut walls and floors.

Sometimes the simulator got a little scrambled, hence the appalling costuming. The song defied lyrical sense but acquitted itself as a respectably charming example of 1980s British synth pop.

The montage carried no particular meaning, drawn as it was from media of the era—and, jarringly, a few alien images. The AI’s Kryptonian sensibility usually inserted at least one foreign element, perhaps a way of reminding itself of its homeworld.

 _This is planet Earth, you're looking at planet Earth,_ Simon sang, drawing the imagery back to the world they were virtually inhabiting. Streams of numbers and Earth trivia ran across their digital faces, the AI’s attempt to anchor the video to this world.

An attempt, the band knew, doomed to failure. They sang and played gamely enough, pouting and posing into the cameras as required. But nothing could explain the random assortment of images, the dancers in the background, and the disastrous fashion choices.

The song drew to a close. Simon braced himself for the shock of dissolution and leapt off the crystal pillar and into the void below. Surely, he consoled himself before his projection winked out of existence, the next video would be better.


End file.
